Deadmeat
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: My take on how Joker and Harley would react to the events in the Suicide Squad and New 52 universe in general. (I am not a fan of the Suicide Squad, or the New 52 universe in general! XD) When Amanda Waller comes to recruit Harley, she is foiled by Joker, and vows to make him suffer until Harley agrees to join the Suicide Squad. And so she sends Deadshot to Gotham...
1. Chapter 1

**Deadmeat**

 _In a better DC universe than the New 52 provided…_

"She's just down here, Mrs…sorry, what did you say your name was again?" asked Dr. Joan Leland, head of Arkham Asylum, turning to her visitor.

"Amanda Waller," replied the visitor, a grim, unsmiling, large woman who held a briefcase in her grip. " _Ms._ Amanda Waller."

"Right, sorry," said Dr. Leland. "I get that a lot too, so now I just use the doctor title to save confusion. Not that people aren't confused when they realize that I'm a doctor, a person of my age and background and…"

"I'd like to see Dr. Quinzel, Dr. Leland," interrupted Waller, coldly. "Now."

Dr. Leland sighed, swiping her keycard on the cell block door. "Fine, but I wish you'd tell me what this is all about."

"I'm from the government, Dr. Leland – I'm not obliged to tell you anything," snapped Waller. "You may go," she added, striding into the cell block.

Dr. Leland glared after her, and then turned and stormed away, muttering under her breath about how sometimes she sided with the lunatics on their opinions of the government.

Amanda Waller's heels clicked as she walked past the cells, her eyes fixed straight ahead until she reached the one she wanted. "Dr. Quinzel," she said, looking through the glass at Harley Quinn.

Harley looked up from the picture of the Joker she had been kissing. "The name's Harley Quinn, lady," she replied, glaring at her.

"Your name is Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel," retorted Waller, glaring back. "We have a very large file on you back at headquarters, and I want to recruit you for my team."

"Sorry, lady, I ain't really a team player," retorted Harley, doing a handstand as she chewed a wad of gum. "And I kinda got a lot on my plate at the moment."

"Yes, I can see that, locked in a cell," said Waller, sarcastically. "But you appear to be under the impression that you have some sort of choice in this matter. You don't. My team is not a voluntary one, and our recruitment is quite selective. Once I decide I want someone inducted, I get them. By any methods necessary."

"Is that a threat?" asked Harley, raising her eyebrow while continuing to stand on her head. "You got some nerve, I'll say that for you, lady. Not a lotta folks are stupid enough to threaten me."

"I'm not afraid of a criminal lunatic – I'm very used to dealing with them," said Waller, calmly. "And you're coming with me, Dr. Quinzel."

Harley chewed her gum, and blew a large bubble, popping it with her tongue. "Ok, I'll bite," she said, smiling. "Whatcha got to make me?"

Waller reached into her briefcase and removed a tiny chip, holding it up to the glass. "When you begin working for me, Dr. Quinzel, you'll have this implanted into your brain," she said. "It's a bomb. It allows me to threaten you with death at any time, because I can activate it whenever I wish, whenever I feel that you're a danger to yourself or others, or the safety of my missions. My team is called the Suicide Squad for that reason – if a mission is too dangerous for the government to send innocent people in, I send you people. All of you hardened criminals who deserve to die, so really no loss for anyone."

"Think my boyfriend might disagree with you," said Harley, blowing another bubble. "And anyway, what makes you think I'll agree to get this chip implanted in my brain? I may be crazy, but I ain't dumb. Or does your file at headquarters believe that dumb blonde stereotype? A lotta people do, y'know."

"Again, you won't have a choice," retorted Waller. "You're agreeing to this, or the man you claim to love will suffer."

Harley burst into a fit of hysterical laughter, which ended in a fit of coughing as she choked on her gum. She fell to the ground, gasping, her face red, and then spat out the wad. She then quickly resumed her giggling fit.

"Yeah, I'd like to see you try to hurt Mr. J!" she chuckled.

"We will," said Waller, firmly. "I work for the government, and our jurisdiction…"

"Mr. J can take the government," interrupted Harley. "Granted, the people who work for them are probably nuttier than the Bat, but not something that's gonna strike fear into his heart. Sorry."

"Dr. Quinzel, I promise you, unless you come with me right now and submit to this implantation procedure, the Joker will suffer," murmured Waller. "I'm a woman of my word."

"Look, I'd do anything to save Mr. J from suffering," said Harley, nodding. "But I just don't believe you can make that happen. How about you, puddin'?" she asked, grinning behind Waller. "Do you believe that?"

Waller felt a burst of sudden pain as something hard slammed into the back of her head, knocking her to her knees. She whirled around, her head reeling, to see the grinning face of the Joker.

"See, that's where idle threats get you," he sighed, holding the fire extinguisher over his head. "So now you see that words can hurt just as much as weapons, can't they, Mrs. Government?"

Waller lunged forward towards the alarm button outside the cell, but Joker got there first, slamming her with the fire extinguisher again and knocking her to the ground.

"Hmm…could strangle her, but doubt I could get my hands around a neck that thick," said Joker, kneeling over her. "Way too much fat. Ain't you heard that obesity is a killer, toots? But don't take my word for it, see for yourself," he said, lifting the extinguisher again.

"Joker, put it down!" demanded Dr. Leland, opening the door to the cell block suddenly surrounded by numerous armed guards, all pointing guns at Joker. "Right now!"

Joker slowly lowered the fire extinguisher to the ground. "Fine, spoil my fun, Doc," he muttered. "But everyone would thank me for one less government worker wandering around."

"Get him back in his cell," said Dr. Leland to the guards. "Securely this time."

She went to go help Waller to her feet. "You're lucky I hung around," said Dr. Leland, smiling, but Waller made a show of helping herself up. She smoothed back her hair, and then reached into her briefcase again, handing a sheet of paper to Dr. Leland.

"Dr. Leland, by the authority of the United States government, I have been authorized to take Dr. Quinzel from this facility to a facility owned by the government, where she will become our agent, implanted with an explosive security chip in case she tries to cause trouble."

"Well, I guarantee Harley will," said Dr. Leland with a smile. "She's not exactly the most solemn or obedient inmate we have…"

"Then she will die," interrupted Waller, coldly. "Now unlock her cell, please."

Dr. Leland looked at Harley, and then back to Waller. "No," Dr. Leland said, slowly. "I'm afraid I can't allow that. Dr. Quinzel is mentally unstable and she needs to remain here to receive treatment…"

"There is no treatment for her!" snapped Waller. "You know that, and I know that! Anyway, this isn't a choice – it's a direct order from the government! Read it!" she said, gesturing to the paper.

Dr. Leland glanced down at it, and then suddenly tore it up. "Sorry, what order?" she asked, lightly.

Waller's eyes flashed fury. "Fine, all of you," she hissed, looking from Harley to Joker and Leland. "We'll do this the hard way."

She turned on her heel and strode toward the door of the cell block. "I'll have another order issued by this afternoon," she called back. "See you then, Dr. Leland."

"Yes, you will," murmured Leland, as the door slammed. She reached for the keys in her belt. "But you won't see Harley," she muttered, unlocking the cell door.

Harley leaped into her arms, hugging her tightly. "Thanks, Joan, you're a real pal!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, and I really hope I'm not fired for it," sighed Dr. Leland, hugging her back. "Now go on, get out of here quickly before she comes back. I'll leave the cell block door open for you – you should be able to slip out through one of the many escape routes you all have found over the years."

"I'll remember this, Joan!" called Harley, dashing off down the hall. "I owe you a really big favor, and I promise I'll repay it! Cross my heart and hope to die, but not with a bomb in my brain!"

Dr. Leland sighed, returning to her office. She went over to the filing cabinet and reached into her pocket for her keys…but they weren't there. Her face fell suddenly. "Oh no," she muttered. "She didn't…while she was hugging me…"

She raced back into the cell block, but her worst fears were confirmed when she saw the Joker's cell door swinging wide open. "Well, that's what I get for being tender-hearted," she sighed. "But maybe it's a good thing. Maybe he can protect her. After all, the Joker might not love Harley, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to see her as a suicide government agent. That's just the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life…"


	2. Chapter 2

"Come in, Lawton," said Amanda Waller, not looking up from her computer screen at the man standing in front of her. "Have a seat."

"This had better be good, Waller," growled Floyd Lawton, otherwise known as Deadshot. "I was halfway to Metropolis for a hit when you called."

"You work for me first and foremost," snapped Waller, looking up at him. "I'm glad for your sake you didn't prioritize that hit over my orders, because that would have been the last hit you ever did. And what sort of pathetic death is that for you, Lawton? A bomb forcibly planted in your brain, set off because you were a disobedient child. How utterly humiliating."

Deadshot glared at her in pure hatred, but sat down in the indicated chair. "So what's the job?" he muttered.

Waller threw a file onto the desk in front of him. "What do you know about Harley Quinn?"

"Name sounds vaguely familiar," said Deadshot, reaching for the file. "Don't think I've ever met her personally."

He opened the file to Harley's picture and whistled. "Hot though, ain't she?"

"If you like batshit crazy," agreed Waller. "She's one of the Gotham freaks – a former psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum who was seduced by the Joker, and now has an obsessive fixation on him, believing herself to be in love with him."

"In love with the Joker?" repeated Deadshot. "You're right, she _is_ batshit crazy."

"I want her for the Suicide Squad," continued Waller. "But there were complications when I tried to transfer her to a secure facility to be operated on. She and the Joker managed to escape out into Gotham. And that's where I want you to come in."

"You want me to assassinate the Joker?" asked Deadshot. "Once he's out of the way, she shouldn't be a problem."

"You haven't read the file," snapped Waller, gesturing to it again. "She has excellent fighting skills on her own - that's why I want her for the Suicide Squad. But she needs to be...persuaded to join, as you all were. Her primary motivation is her obsessive love for the Joker. She'd sacrifice everything for that, even her own life if it would protect him. And she'd surrender to me to save him."

"So you want me to _attempt_ to assassinate the Joker?" asked Deadshot. "Blackmail her into joining with attempts on his life?"

"That's one route we could take," said Waller, nodding. "And the route we will take as a backup option. But I prefer something a little...crueler for them," she murmured, lacing her fingers together as she thought. Deadshot was silent, reading the file, until Waller spoke again. "If we harmed, threatened to harm, or killed the Joker, Harley would still have something to live for. She would be driven by anger and vengeance against us, and I want her completely obedient. And the only way to do that is to break her spirit completely. She defied me. I don't like being defied. People who defy me have to pay. And the best from of torture is always psychological…"

"I'm not torturing the Joker," interrupted Deadshot. "I'm an assassin, nothing more. Besides, I hear the Joker has a talent for torture, and I'd hate for the whole situation to backfire somehow."

"You won't have to physically torture him," said Waller. "But mentally, I want you to torture them both."

"How?" demanded Deadshot.

Waller looked at him. "She's very attractive, isn't she?" she said, gesturing to Harley's file.

Deadshot put it down. "I'm not seducing her," he said, firmly. "I'm not that kinda guy, charming and persuasive…"

"She doesn't like charming and persuasive - she likes abusive, murderous psychopaths!" snapped Waller. "And you qualify as that, Lawton! Anyway, I'm not asking you to seduce her! But I want you to make Joker believe you have."

"What?" demanded Deadshot. "Why? How?"

"Just insinuate things," said Waller. "Give him the impression that you and Harley have been intimate together, before he came along, of course. You're her type, after all, and their relationship is so jealous and insecure, as you can tell from all their numerous fights and break-ups, that he'll probably buy it. He'll cast Harley off, she'll be utterly heartbroken, with nothing more to live for now that the Joker's discarded her. And people who don't have anything to live for are my kind of people, aren't they, Lawton?"

Deadshot was silent. "Frankly, I think it would be simpler for me to just assassinate him," he muttered. "She'll still have nothing to live for if he's dead, and it would be easier and kinder…"

"I'm not a kind person, Lawton," interrupted Waller. "Especially not toward psychopaths and murderers. I want them both to suffer for defying me. I want them to suffer mentally, and physically, and only when I've completely broken them both will I allow you to kill the Joker, and bring Harley to me. Maybe you'll still have a chance with her after that – she'll need some homicidal freak to fill the void."

Deadshot stood up. "This is disgusting, and cruel…" he began.

"And they're my orders," interrupted Waller, coldly. "So follow them, Lawton, unless you want your head exploded right here and now. I assure you, I have no qualms about doing that, so don't test me."

They glared at each other in silence as the clock on Waller's desk ticked. "That'll be all," said Waller at last, returning her attention to the computer screen. "Keep the file, study it, and head to Gotham as quickly as possible. I want my latest recruit ready for our next operation."

Deadshot turned and slowly made his way toward the door, opening the file again and looking at Harley's picture, one of her clinging to Joker, beaming. "Just think how rewarding it'll be, to wipe the smile off those grinning faces permanently," said Waller. "Because after she's one of mine, she'll never smile again."

"No," muttered Deadshot, heading out the door. "Nobody ever does."


	3. Chapter 3

"So, how was it for you?" asked Joker, sitting up in bed smoking a cigarette.

"The sex, or the torture and murder of the hostages foreplay?" asked Harley, leaning lovingly against him.

"Both," replied Joker, shrugging. "One leads to the other."

"Well, they were both fantastic," said Harley, beaming. "Only now we gotta get rid of the bodies, and that's always a pain. I guess we could compost them in the backyard again, but then they start to smell bad. Sometimes I wish killing people wasn't so messy."

"The mess is half the fun of it, pooh!" exclaimed Joker. "I wouldn't trade it for the world! All that blood and gore…"

"Stop dirty-talking, or you'll get me in the mood again," interrupted Harley, grinning.

"That's not exactly a challenge with you, you masochistic nymphomaniac," retorted Joker. "I dunno what I've ever done to be stuck with someone like you. It's like I'm being punished for something, but I dunno what I've ever done wrong."

"You've just done me, and it was pretty wrong," replied Harley. "Just the way I like it," she added with a smile.

Joker chuckled. "Nice gag, pooh," he said, kissing her. He put out the cigarette and climbed out of bed, pulling his robe on. "Well, I guess we could call the henchguys to get rid of the bodies, but knowing them they'd probably screw it up somehow and bring the Bat down on us. And although I do miss him, going straight back to Arkham ain't what I had in mind after our latest breakout."

"Plus that awful woman might be waiting for me if I'm dragged back," said Harley, shuddering.

"Don't you worry, pumpkin pie," said Joker, patting her head. "Daddy J's gonna keep you safe from the nasty fat lady. If she touches a hair on your head, or a wrinkle in your brain, she'll have me to answer to. Nobody messes with my pooh bear's mind except me, and that includes planting bombs in it."

"Aw, puddin', you know just what to say to a gal!" sighed Harley, kissing him and reaching for her own robe. "C'mon – I'll get the feet, you get the hands."

Their current hideout was very handily located by the Gotham River, so the disposal of bodies was easier than it might otherwise have been. Still, they both worked up quite a sweat, so a joint shower was definitely called for.

From a rooftop across from the hideout a man crouched, spying on them through the sight on his sniper rifle. He peered through the lens, watching Joker, who had been tickling Harley mercilessly, ruin the romantic mood by spraying shampoo into Harley's eyes, which set her off screaming and beating him, which quickly rekindled the romantic mood. Deadshot focused on Harley, and his sharp eyes noticed a distinctive mole, probably a birthmark, on her torso. He smiled slightly.

"Well, after all that, I'm in the mood for a milkshake, some cotton candy, and a banana split before I get to work on planning my latest genius crime," said Joker, toweling his hair.

"Sure thing, puddin'," said Harley, putting her own wet hair up in a towel and slipping into a robe and bunny slippers. "Coming right up!"

She skipped down the hall into the kitchen and had just begun chopping bananas when a knock came on the hideout door. She frowned, and went to go answer it, calling, "Puddin', are you expecting company?"

"No," retorted Joker, emerging from the bedroom dressed in his usual purple suit. "And I really can't stand uninvited guests who just show up unannounced – it's so rude. And there's no excuse for rudeness. I'll just have to teach 'em some manners," he sighed, withdrawing his gun.

Harley grinned, and then opened the door. She frowned at the man standing there, who was a complete stranger to her, but one she didn't like the look of one bit. "Can I help you?" she asked.

Deadshot smiled. "Harley, good to see you again," he said. "Why so formal, sweetheart?"

"Uh…sorry?" stammered Harley, confused. "Do I know you?"

"Oh, you know me, sweetheart," said Deadshot, smiling unpleasantly. "You know me really well. You can't have forgotten, even if it has been a long time."

"I think you're mistaking me for someone else, buddy," said Harley.

"I think I'm not," he replied. "Dr. Harleen Quinzel."

"There, y'see? Name's Harley Quinn," snapped Harley. "So you got the wrong gal, sorry…"

"Hang on a minute, sweetheart," said Deadshot, holding open the door as she tried to close it in his face. "Why don't you invite me in? I'm in Gotham for a little while, and since I don't know anybody here, I'd be happy to resume our little…relationship, shall we say," he added, grinning.

"You've seriously got the wrong gal," snapped Harley, glaring at him angrily. "I'm a one-man loon, pal, and the only man I've ever had a relationship with is my current boyfriend."

"Really? Is that the lie you tell him?" asked Deadshot. "Guess he doesn't know you as well as I do, then. When you were in college, you had quite a few boyfriends, and not all of them fellow students, remember? Quite a few of your teachers gave you good grades for services rendered. But even among all those men you can't have forgotten me, Floyd Lawton. What we had was special, baby. I'm sure you must remember…"

"What the hell are you talking about?!" demanded Harley, furiously. "How dare you! I never slept with anybody in college, teacher or student, and especially not you, you disgusting creep! I've never seen you before in my life! Now get the hell off my property before my boyfriend puts a bullet in your brain!"

"Harley, who is it?" asked Joker, joining her at the door.

"Floyd Lawton," said Deadshot, extending his hand and smiling at Joker. "I'm an old…friend of Harley's. She was quite the popular gal when I knew her, especially among men of taste."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," replied Joker with a smile. "I _am_ a man of taste, but you're clearly not, so you're obviously a liar, since Harley would have no reason to even look twice at you."

"I'm an assassin," said Deadshot. "Code-name Deadshot, because I never miss my target. I'm sure you know Harley could never resist the thrill of a bad boy."

"Actually, bad boys aren't my type," retorted Harley, glaring at him. "Only evil men."

"That's right, and that's me," said Joker, putting an arm protectively around her. "I dunno who the hell you think you are, pal, to talk about the Joker's girl like she's just some common…"

"She's got that cute little mole shaped like a heart just over her belly button," interrupted Deadshot. "She used to like me to kiss that because it tickled. She's a very ticklish girl, with a nice, loud laugh. I like a vocal woman."

Joker glared at him, while Harley gaped, open-mouthed, in shock. "How do you know about…you've been spying on me naked, ain't ya?!" she shrieked, suddenly furious. "How dare you?! Puddin', kill him! Kill him now, before he tells any other filthy, disgusting lies!"

Joker reached for his gun, but Deadshot already had his drawn. "Don't even think about it – I'm a faster shot," he murmured. "Anyway, even if you killed me, you wouldn't be able to silence my voice in your head, my voice that's gonna nag away at you. You're suspicious of her now, as well you should be. She may look like an angel, but she's not exclusively your angel. And she never was."

"Shut up!" shrieked Harley, leaping forward to attack him, but Joker held her back.

"Get off my property," muttered Joker at Deadshot. "And don't you ever come back."

Deadshot shrugged. "Ok. My work's done anyway. You know what she's really like now, what kinda woman hides behind that innocent mask. Harley, if you get lonely after he casts you out, look me up. See you soon, sweetheart," he said, winking at her and dropping a card with his address on it at her feet.

Joker slammed the door in his face just as Harley tried to dive forward and hit him. "Puddin', it's a lie!" she cried, turning to him with tears of fury in her big, blue eyes. "A lie! You know that – you were my first and only guy, I swear…"

"How did he know about your mole?" interrupted Joker, quietly.

"I told you – he must have spied on me!" she cried. "That's the only way he could have known!"

Joker studied her carefully. "Why would he lie?" he asked. "What does he want? What does he have to gain?"

"I don't know!" sobbed Harley. "I don't know why he wants you suspicious and distrustful of me! Maybe he wants to break us up for some reason, but even if he did, I'd never even look at anyone else but you, especially not him, so I dunno why…"

"That's enough, Harley, calm down," said Joker, gently. "I don't believe him."

"You don't?" she gasped, relieved.

"Of course not," he retorted, holding out his arms to her. She ran into them, sobbing. "If you really had as many guys as he claimed, you'd be better at sex, for one thing," he added, grinning.

Harley sobbed in relief, burying her face in his chest. He stroked her hair back, shushing her and gazing at the door. He knew there had to be some reason for Deadshot showing up here when he did, and he was going to find out why.


	4. Chapter 4

Later that night, Harley was asleep in Joker's arms. But Joker was wide awake.

He gazed at her sleeping peacefully, a smile on her pretty face, and a tiny, nagging voice of suspicion began to speak to him. The Joker didn't trust anyone completely – that wasn't in his nature. He had never suspected Harley of lying to him before, and he was pretty sure she wasn't now. And yet…and yet that tiny, nagging voice continued to speak, continued to question why Deadshot would lie like that, to question how he had known intimate details of Harley…and to question for the first time _why_ he had been Harley's first man. That didn't make a lot of sense, objectively. She was an attractive young woman, a little annoying, and clingy, maybe, but certainly a looker. Why wouldn't she have had other men before him? What made him so special in her eyes? Why would a beautiful and successful young doctor's true love be a middle-aged, homicidal, psychopathic clown? Maybe their relationship was so unbelievable…because it was built on a lie.

And yet he just couldn't see those beautiful blue eyes lying to him, he couldn't see her face as anything but open and honest and innocent, not deceptive and false. The Joker dealt with a lot of people in masks, and he knew Harley didn't wear one. Not her. Her love for him was sincere and genuine and exactly as passionate as it seemed.

And yet…and yet…maybe it _was_ so passionate because it was trying so desperately to conceal something. Maybe it was a clever act of devotion, so that he'd never suspect the truth. Maybe she had loved someone madly like this before.

He pulled slightly away from her, and she stirred. "Mmm…puddin'?" she murmured, opening those wide, innocent blue eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he murmured. "Go back to sleep, Harl."

"Ok," she said, yawning and snuggling against him again.

Joker was silent for a long time, thinking. "Harley?" he said at last.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"In Arkham, when we met…what were you doing there?" he asked.

She opened her eyes again. "I was working as a doctor, puddin'…" she began, slowly.

"Yeah, but why were you _there_?" he asked. "Could have been a doctor anywhere. Arkham ain't exactly a great place for a young, ambitious shrink to work – the staff don't generally last long. Why were you there, and free, and single? Why would a smart gal like you fall for my mind games?"

Harley sat up slowly. "I dunno," she said. "I was there because I went to college in Gotham, so I'd kinda settled here already, and Arkham gives its employees excellent benefits – it has to, or no one would ever work there. Plus I've always had an attraction for extreme personalities, and Arkham has some of the most extreme personalities in the world…"

"So you came there looking for one to be attracted to," said Joker, quietly.

"I came there because it was a job I thought I could do some good in," said Harley.

"So you didn't have any designs on the patients, or me, or anything?" asked Joker.

"No, not at first," she said. "But you clearly did on me."

They were both silent until Harley spoke at last. "Is that all they were? Mind games?"

"Yeah, at the beginning," he said, nodding. "You know that. I didn't think the truth would matter after all this time."

"It doesn't to me," she replied. "But clearly it does to you, or you wouldn't have brought it up."

"Well, that crap Deadshot said is bothering me a little," he admitted. "I know it's not true, but…"

"The fact that you follow that with a 'but' means you think it is true," whispered Harley, tears in her eyes.

"No, it's just…got me thinking," he said. "About how it doesn't make sense, you and me. How our meeting as we did didn't make sense, how our whole relationship doesn't really make sense…"

"That's why it works, puddin'," interrupted Harley. "Because it's crazy. Just like we are. It's mad love. It only works because we're mad too."

Neither of them spoke again as the minutes ticked by. "I never lied to you," murmured Harley at last. "But you did to me. If either of us shouldn't trust the other, it shouldn't be you."

Joker sighed heavily. "Kid, when I saw you for the first time, all prim and proper, I thought you were just another shrink wanting to make a name for herself. Wanting to get the inside scoop on the the Joker, to crack the uncrackable mind. And then we started talking and I realized…that prim and proper shrink wasn't who you really were. You were someone else – someone fun and free and wild and crazy, but…you were trapped. And you didn't know how to break free of that trap. So I helped you. I set you free. And maybe I did it for selfish reasons, because I wanted you to help me bust outta Arkham, but the truth is, it doesn't matter anymore. The only thing that matters is the here and now. Who we are. And I think you're finally who you always should have been because of me."

"I am," agreed Harley. "And maybe I ain't changed your life that much, not as much as you changed mine anyway, but…I think you love me enough to trust me. Don't you?"

Joker was silent again. "You say the past doesn't matter," she murmured. "So why does it to you?"

"I don't know," he retorted. "Because if the past that he talks about is true, it completely changes the present. It completely changes who you are in my eyes. It means you're capable of lying, and it means that I can't trust you. And this whole thing just doesn't sit right. This guy Deadshot showing up outta nowhere, trying to slander you for no reason. Who the hell is he, and why the hell would he want to do that?"

"That doesn't matter to me as much as you not believing him does," whispered Harley, tears in her eyes. "I love you, puddin'. And only you. I always have. The reason I fell for you so hard was because you were the first person to see me as I truly was, just like you said. You understood me in a way nobody else ever had. I always knew I was different, and I'd always felt different, so I never dated anyone because I never thought anyone would accept me for who I really am. You did. I don't think that's so strange or inexplicable. You're my true love. I knew it when I met you. So why can't you believe that?"

"I do, Harley," he said, holding her. "I do. Don't worry – we'll get to the bottom of this Deadshot conspiracy. I know he's a liar, and now we just gotta prove it."

"You do know that, huh, puddin'?" she asked, hopefully.

He shrugged. "I may be crazy, but...I do trust you," he said. "And you're right – if our relationship seems crazy, that must mean it's real."

She beamed, kissing him. "Now we just gotta figure out a way to find out what he's up to," continued Joker. "Y'know my personal favorite method would be mutilation and torture…"

"He's an assassin, puddin' – he's probably used to that kinda intimidation," said Harley. "He's not likely to talk under interrogation. At least, not that kinda interrogation."

"What are you thinking?" asked Joker.

Harley was silent. "I got a plan," she said at last. "But it's only gonna work if I know you trust me completely. Do you?" she asked, gazing at him pleadingly.

Joker gazed back, and nodded slowly. "Yeah. I do."

"Ok then," said Harley, taking a deep breath. "The way I see it, if we really wanna find out what he's up to…we gotta make him think his plan worked. If breaking us up _is_ his plan, which we gotta assume it is at the moment. So I'm gonna find him and tell him you threw me out, and see what he wants from me next."

"I got a pretty good idea what he wants from you, Harl," growled Joker.

"C'mon, Mr. J, nobody would ever go through all this trouble just so I'd sleep with 'em," said Harley, shrugging. "There's gotta be something else, some other reason he's here, intruding on our lives like this. And I can only get to the bottom of it by going along with his plan. And you gotta trust me to stay loyal to you throughout that. I don't want to risk our entire relationship on this, so I gotta know that I'm not risking it. You do trust me completely, don't you?"

"I told you I did, didn't I?" snapped Joker. "You deaf or what? Now go to sleep, you useless waste of space! If you're gonna try to get into Deadshot's confidence, you're gonna not need to look like a tired, worn-out, old bag!"

He rolled over, shutting his eyes, and Harley grinned, cuddling up against him. "I love you too, puddin'," she whispered.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm not sure I like this plan," said Joker the next day.

"You were fine with it last night," said Harley, putting on her makeup and then dipping her fingers in water and smudging it to look like she'd been crying. "You've decided you don't trust me since then, huh?"

"It ain't you I don't trust," retorted Joker. "But what if this Deadshot guy tries to get fresh with you?"

"I'll give him what for," snapped Harley. "Believe me, Mr. J, I can fend off creeps. He ain't the first one I'll have done that for."

"Oh yeah? How many creeps have made a move on you?" demanded Joker.

"Well, one does constantly," said Harley, planting a kiss on his lips. "Now stop worrying. I can handle myself."

She began rubbing blush under her nose to make it look like she'd been wiping it with a tissue. "Did some digging on the internet this morning," she said. "Apparently this Deadshot is considered the World's Greatest Assassin."

"I thought that was Deathstroke," said Joker. He frowned. "Hey, wait a minute…Deadshot, Deathstroke…similar names, similar profession, same title…you don't think they're the same guy, do ya?"

"No, I think Deathstroke's older," said Harley.

"So he had the moniker first?" asked Joker. "I already didn't like this Deadshot guy, but I like him even less now that I know he's a plagiarizer. Which one do you really think _is_ the World's Greatest Assassin?"

"Not sure I care," replied Harley. "Assassin is such a boring profession. You gotta be secretive and stealthy all the time – no room for any fun killing people like that."

"Yeah, you don't really get to be in there at the kill if you're shooting them with a sniper rifle," agreed Joker. "You miss out on all the thrill. Where's the fun in shooting a guy a hundred feet away? Where's the slapstick?"

"Somehow I don't see this Deadshot as a slapstick kinda guy," said Harley. "Another reason why you can tell he's lying about the whole him-and-me thing."

"Yeah, you got better taste than that, toots," agreed Joker. He thought for a moment. "You think Deathstroke knows this guy's stealing his name and title? Could be a good way to get rid of the thorn in our side by letting him know."

"C'mon, puddin', that'd be such a waste," said Harley. "After I'm done, you can kill him yourself. And you know you'll have so much more fun with it than Deathstroke ever could."

"Yeah, I am a lot more fun than everyone," agreed Joker. "Especially when I'm killing people."

A knock came on the door. "That better not be him," growled Joker, storming to answer it.

"If it is, act like you've been slapping me around," said Harley, reaching for a sponge. "I'm just making a black eye outta makeup."

"Happy to give you a real one if it would help," called back Joker, opening the door. He frowned when he saw the visitor, who wasn't Deadshot. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded.

"I came to see Harley, not you," snapped Poison Ivy, striding past him into the hideout. "We're meant to go on a shopping spree today."

"Aw gee, Red, I completely forgot!" exclaimed Harley, emerging from the bedroom. Ivy saw her black eye and whirled around, glaring hatred at Joker.

"How dare you do that to her, you brute?!" she shrieked, gesturing to the eye. "How dare you treat any woman so disrespectfully, especially a woman who claims to love you!"

"Relax, Red, it's just makeup," said Harley. "I got a top-secret, undercover mission to do, and I gotta look like this to play the part."

"How dare you send her on dangerous, undercover missions?!" demanded Ivy, still glaring at Joker. "What's the matter?! Not man enough to do it yourself?!"

"It was her idea!" protested Joker. "Anyway, it's clearly her he's after, not me!"

"Who?" asked Ivy.

"Deathstroke," said Joker.

"Slade Wilson?" asked Ivy, puzzled. "Why…"

"No, no, no, the other one," interrupted Joker. "Geez, now even I'm confusing 'em."

"It's an assassin guy called Floyd Lawton, codename Deadshot," explained Harley. "He showed up here claiming that we'd had a romantic past, me and a lotta other guys, apparently. We think he was trying to get a rile outta Mr. J so he'd break up with me and kick me out, but we don't know why he wants to do that. So I'm gonna go find him and see."

"But what if he wants to hurt you?" asked Ivy. "This could be hugely dangerous."

"I told Mr. J, I can handle myself," retorted Harley. "Thought you were all for female empowerment, Red."

"Well, yeah," agreed Ivy. "But that doesn't mean you go walking into trouble. And throwing yourself on the mercy of an assassin sounds like trouble to me."

"I appreciate your concern, Red, but I'm doing it," retorted Harley. "I need to know why this guy is gunning for me, and I need to make him pay for slandering me. Or rather, Mr. J is gonna make him pay," she said, nodding at him. "Not cause I'm not empowered or nothing, just because he always has more fun with it, and I like to make him happy."

"At least let me and J monitor you just in case you get into trouble," said Ivy.

"I don't like being spied on," retorted Harley. "And I don't need your help."

"Yeah, I trust that she can take care of herself, Pammie," said Joker. "Why can't you?"

"Because I care about her, Joker, unlike you," retorted Ivy. "And if anything happened to her when I could have prevented it, I'd never forgive myself."

"Oooh, I'd like to see you all brooding and miserable," said Joker, beaming. "You could join Bats and be the new Batgirl! You got the hair for it!"

"I told you, Red, I'll be fine," said Harley. She rubbed her eyes to redden them, dropped some eye drops into them so that water trailed down her cheeks and out of her nose, and then glanced in the mirror, nodding.

"I look just as upset as I always do when you kick me out, don't I, puddin'?" she asked, turning to him.

"Yep, just as pathetic and distraught," agreed Joker. "Go knock 'em dead, kiddo. Not literally, of course – that's my job."

Harley giggled, kissing him. "Love you, puddin'. See you soon. Bye, Red!" she said, skipping out the door.

Ivy looked at Joker. "You're seriously not going to follow her?" she demanded.

"I told you, Pammie, I trust her," said Joker, shrugging. "Anyway, I got work to do here. Gotta plan a new scheme for Bats – can't keep him waiting."

"And if this Deathshot…Deadstroke…whoever he is, hurts her, you're gonna be ok with that?" asked Ivy.

"No. I'll kill him slowly and painfully," said Joker. "But I'm gonna do that anyway, whether I follow Harley or not. All in good time. Y'know, patience is a virtue, Pammie," he said, heading off to his study.

Ivy glared after him, and sighed. "Fine, I'll tail her myself," she muttered. "Would be better with two of us, of course, so that we could take shifts monitoring her…"

She thought for a moment, heading for the door. "If J doesn't help, who else cares enough about Harley to keep watch with me? Selina, but she'll probably insist we bring in the Bat to help, so that's out. Not Harvey, sadly, because I have some influence there. But maybe…"

She pulled out her phone and climbed into her car just as Harley pulled out of the driveway. Ivy kept her in her sights as she dialed a number, letting it ring.

"Hello?" said a voice.

"Johnny? It's Ivy," said Ivy. "Are you busy?"

"I am always busy," snapped Jonathan Crane. "My work in fear keeps me constantly studying, experimenting, and refining the chemical and psychological sources of terror…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, look, Harley's gone off to meet some assassin who might want to hurt her," interrupted Ivy. "Apparently he claims they once had a romantic relationship, and that Harley had lots of other guys before J. So Harley's gone straight into his clutches to find out what he wants, and J's let her because he doesn't care, and I'm tailing her now to keep watch over her. Thought you might wanna help save her from a horrible man like that."

Crane was silent. "I don't want to," he muttered. "I have to, don't I? It's my duty, and I have no choice. If that sweet angel is in danger, I have an obligation to protect her and keep her safe, and to make the ruffian pay for saying such horrible, disgusting things about that pure, perfect woman…"

"Yeah, she's a real treasure," interrupted Ivy. "I'll call you back when I know where she's going. See you soon."

She hung up. "All right, Deadstroke," she muttered to herself as the continued to follow Harley. "Let's see what your game is."


	6. Chapter 6

"Johnny…how'd you get here so fast?" asked Ivy, surprised to see Crane waiting for her when she pulled up the car in front of a derelict apartment building. Harley's car was around the corner, and Harley was still inside it, apparently scanning the windows to see which room was Deadshot's.

"I…I…Jervis has a sort of…location device which can track people based on…scent," stammered Crane.

Ivy stared at him. "And…you have Harley's scent on hand?" she asked, slowly. "Like that you keep in a bottle?"

"No, no, no, nothing like that," said Crane, hastily. "But I do have a…handkerchief she cried into when she came over to ours once after Joker kicked her out, which I keep…safe. For just such emergencies as this, in fact, and see how useful it's proved. So you see, it isn't weird at all."

"O…K…" said Ivy, slowly. "Well, hop in before she sees you. I don't think she'll take kindly to being followed."

"Who does this assassin fellow think he is?" demanded Crane, climbing into the car. "Impugning the honor of a perfect girl like that!"

"I dunno – I've never heard of him before," said Ivy. "Some guy called Deathstroke?"

"Slade Wilson?" asked Crane, confused. "Why…"

"Dammit, J's right, it _is_ easy to confuse them," interrupted Ivy. "Sorry, it's actually…Deadshot, I think? The name's similar."

"I've never heard of him either," said Crane. "Must not be a very good assassin."

"Or a very good one, to have kept his identity a secret this long," pointed out Ivy. "I don't like it, anyway. I don't like that I haven't heard of him, I don't like him just showing up here insulting Harley, and I don't like the idea of Harley taking him on alone."

"Well, that's why we're here," said Crane, reaching for a vial of fear toxin and loading it into his glove. "If that scoundrel lays a hand on her, he'll be coming face to face with his deepest fears."

"I appreciate you being so protective of her, Johnny," said Ivy. "It's a lot more than her boyfriend is. Not that I believe strong, independent women should need men to protect them, but Harley's hardly a strong, independent woman, unfortunately, and I care about her too much to put my feminist pride before her safety. Although objectively, you having her scent on hand is a little creepy."

"It's not!" protested Crane. "It's perfectly normal! Jervis has Alice's scent on hand just in case of emergencies!"

"Yeah, Jervis isn't exactly the yardstick for not creepy," said Ivy, slowly. "I understand that your feelings for Harley are very deep, and believe me, if she wanted you over J, I'd approve in a second. But I think you should probably resign yourself to the fact that she wants J, and only J. I mean, I don't believe this Deadshot saying he's had Harley – if she'd ever been with another man, there's no way she'd stay with the clown. But she's naïve about relationships because he's her first one. I'm sure you know how strong and lasting a first love can be."

"Well, yes, of course I do," agreed Crane. "Otherwise I'd have given up on Harley long ago."

"…Harley's the first woman you've ever loved?" asked Ivy, slowly.

"You think my feelings are so casual that I'll just waste them on anyone?" demanded Crane. "Of course she's the first woman I've ever loved! And I'm fairly certain she'll be the only woman I'll ever love."

"Yeah, that's typical of a first love," sighed Ivy. "You don't think you'll ever find someone else, and you don't think anything can ever be as perfect as it, just like me and Ja…never mind," she said, trailing off suddenly.

"You and J?" repeated Crane. "Goodness, Pamela, I thought you had better taste in men than that…"

"Not me and J – me and Jason!" snapped Ivy. "God, how could you think I could possibly be in love with that hideous clown?!"

"Hey, I'm right here!" exclaimed Joker, throwing off the blanket he had covered himself over with in the backseat.

Ivy screamed, while Crane's instinctive reaction was to press the switch in his glove that sent a cloud of fear toxin straight into Joker's face. "Son of a bitch!" gasped Joker, coughing and choking on it. He punched Crane hard in the jaw. "Don't spray that crap in my face!" he snapped. "It doesn't have any effect on me, but it's just rude!"

"Sorry," stammered Crane, then he frowned. "No wait, hang on, I'm not sorry! What are you doing here?!"

"I snuck into the backseat while Pammie was on the phone to you – she's not very observant," said Joker, shrugging.

"I thought you said you trusted Harley to take care of herself," snapped Ivy.

"I changed my mind," he said. "Anyway, if she does get into any trouble, you two losers won't be able to handle it."

"She's coming this way!" gasped Crane, as Harley got out of her car suddenly.

"Hide!" said Joker, lying back down in the backseat and throwing the cover over himself again. Ivy looked desperately around for some way to hide her face in the driver's seat, and then suddenly noticed Crane. She grabbed him around the collar and pulled him on top of her, thrusting her mouth into his and embracing him tightly.

As she hoped, Harley glanced inside to see a couple trying to make out in private, and thought no more about it, heading instead for the stairs to the ruined apartment complex.

Ivy watched her go, and then released Crane at last. "She's gone," she said, and Joker once again threw off the blanket, sitting up.

"You ok, Johnny?" he asked, noticing Crane's pale, shocked expression. "You look a little shell-shocked."

"Sorry about that, Johnny – it was the only thing I could think of to conceal myself on the spur of the moment," said Ivy, apologetically.

"Yes, well…no harm done," gasped Crane, who was still shaking. "Quite…pleasant actually, considering I've…never been kissed like that before. Or indeed at all."

"Oh, so that's why you look shell-shocked!" chuckled Joker. "I hear the Weed Lady has that effect!"

Ivy slapped him hard across the face. "C'mon," she said, getting out of the car. "We can't see Harley from here if she gets into any trouble – let's follow her inside."

"Dibs on killing Deadshot first if he tries anything!" said Joker, shooting his hand up.

"It's not a contest, J," snapped Ivy. "Our priority is keeping Harley safe. This is about her, not Deadshot."

"For me, it's about Deadshot," retorted Joker. "It's personal. Some guy shows up and starts talking crap about a guy's girl, and a guy's got a right to defend her honor by making the other guy wish he'd never been born. That's only fair."

"I suppose we should just be grateful you're actually interested in defending Harley's honor," sighed Crane.

"Well, that's personal too," agreed Joker. "What kinda guy would I be if my girlfriend had played me for a fool this whole time? It wouldn't do wonders for my reputation, let me tell you. And it also wouldn't do wonders for my reputation to let this guy who's talking crap about my girl live. People will start to think anyone can just insult my property like that. And how would you like it if people started insulting your property?"

"You just called my fear gas crap," pointed out Crane.

"Well, that's just objectively true," said Joker, shrugging. "I'm talking about for people with taste, Craney, obviously. None of these statements apply to you, mostly because you'll never have a girl."

"Pamela just kissed me!" snapped Crane.

"Hey, that was just for cover – don't go getting any ideas!" retorted Ivy. "You're not my type!"

"Yeah, you heard her earlier – she's in love with J," chuckled Joker. "Clowns are her type!"

Ivy slapped him hard again, and then headed for the door to the apartment complex. "C'mon!" she repeated, regretting with each passing instant her decision to work with men.


	7. Chapter 7

Harley knocked on the door to Deadshot's apartment, and Joker, Ivy, and Crane watched from the bottom of the stairs, holding their breath. The door opened and Deadshot looked at her, and then held open the door for her to enter.

"Ok, go!" hissed Ivy, and they all three hurried over to the door as it shut. Joker shoved them both out of the way to look through the keyhole, while the other two listened through the cracks. And this is what Joker saw.

"Look what you've done!" shrieked Harley, pointing to her face. "He's kicked me out, and it's all your fault!"

"Good riddance," retorted Deadshot. "You don't need him, Harley. You know that. You're so much better on your own, so much stronger and more independent, and a much better role model…"

"I don't wanna be a role model!" shrieked Harley. "I want to be a terrible warning! I've always been a psychotic mess, but at least I used to have some self-respect, and the love of a man I loved madly! What have I got now?!"

Deadshot shrugged. "You can be an even more psychotic mess. And who needs self-respect when you're that hot? If you're really psychotic, you shouldn't be loyal to an abusive creep like the Joker. You should be crazy enough to sleep around with a lot of bad boys. After all, an attractive woman shouldn't waste her life pining after some jerk who doesn't want her. She should be enjoying all the jerks who do."

Harley glared at him. "You know what, Deadshot?" she snapped. Then her face broke into a grin. "You're right," she murmured, sliding into his arms and kissing him. "I missed you, Floyd."

"I missed you too, baby," murmured Deadshot. "You used to do some crazy things in the bedroom, and I really missed that."

"Well, you won't have to for much longer," Harley murmured, grinning. "But it was kinda tactless of you, baby, to just show up on my doorstep like that and tell Mr. J about us. I got kinda a good gig going on there, and I don't need to break his illusions about me."

"What is he, stupid?" laughed Deadshot. "He's gotta know a girl as hot as you could never have been with just one man. He's gotta know that that obsessively loyal love thing is all an act. Nobody's crazy enough to love somebody like that, especially somebody like the Joker."

"Oh, he's got his good points," purred Harley. "But frankly, I have been missing my bad assassin. I mean, you know me, baby – I get antsy if I can't have multiple guys at a time."

"That's never been a problem for me, baby – you know I don't care how many other guys you do," said Deadshot. "Remember when we went out shopping and we didn't have any money and you paid for those groceries by doing the cashier? That was completely psychotic, and awesome."

"And fun," agreed Harley. "Well, what's the point in being psychotic if I can't just sleep with anyone I want, whenever I want? That's the thing about being a strong, independent female character instead of a submissive, abused doormat. That's what Red always used to tell me too."

"Red?" asked Deadshot. "One of your other guys?"

"Girls, actually," said Harley, grinning. "I do them too now, y'know."

"Oh baby, I'd love to see that!" gasped Deadshot.

"Maybe I'll let you watch next time we hook up," purred Harley. "Would you like that, baby? I wanna do anything men like, because displaying myself for them makes me feel powerful and strong."

She removed her harlequin hat to reveal her usual blonde hair dyed red and blue, and then grinned as she unzipped her usual red and black catsuit to reveal very short shorts, and a corset that left little to the imagination. Joker wondered for a moment how that even stayed up, but that was a very minor one of the many things that didn't make sense to him at the moment. He was too stunned to do or say anything – as much as he wanted to go in there and kill them both, his body wouldn't obey him. It was like he was stuck in some horrible nightmare…

"You know I do like a bad boy," Harley murmured, approaching Deadshot. "Any bad boy, as long as he'll treat me bad and rough. I'm not picky."

"I know you ain't," growled Deadshot, kissing her. "And apparently it doesn't even need to be a boy."

Harley grinned. "Red!" she called, turning to the door. "C'mon in here and meet a very, very good friend of mine."

To Joker's astonishment, Ivy shoved past him, opening the door and entering the room. "Hi, stud," Ivy purred, grinning at Deadshot. "Hi, Harley," she murmured, kissing her fully on the mouth.

"Oh wow, that's hot!" gasped Deadshot. "Does the clown know about you two? I hope you let him watch!"

"He don't know," purred Harley, nuzzling Ivy's cheek. "He's too blind to see anything that's going on under his nose. He thinks we're just friends, but why be friends when you can be friends with benefits?"

Harley and Ivy kissed again, and Deadshot began to eagerly strip off his clothing. "Oh, he _is_ impressive," murmured Ivy. "A lot more muscular than the clown."

"A lot bigger too, if you know what I'm saying," giggled Harley. "The biggest guy I've had, and I've had a lot. There's just something really thrilling in sleeping with random men, especially when you know it's wrong. And being a bad, crazy girl, I gotta be up for sleeping with all bad, crazy men. That's just what we strong, independent female characters do – use our sexuality to our advantage. We don't really have a choice in the matter."

"Mmm, and she is good at using her sexuality to her advantage," murmured Deadshot, grinning at Harley. "Like when we were hooking up in college."

"Oh yeah, my medical degree!" giggled Harley. "Don't tell Mr. J, Red, but I ain't a real doctor. I mean, I got the degree, but not by studying. Smart girls don't have to study when we got other skills."

"And you most certainly do have other skills," murmured Crane, who also entered the room at that moment, smiling at Harley.

She smiled back. "Hi, Professor," she purred. "I can never thank you enough for all the A's you gave me on those papers."

"I can never thank you enough for everything you did to me to get them," replied Crane with a grin. "Especially what you did to me to make me write your recommendation to Arkham. You were so good to me it's really the least I could do."

"And then once I got to Arkham, I played Mr. J like a violin," giggled Harley. "He thinks he seduced me, a poor, innocent little virgin, but in reality, I was manipulating him the whole time. I'm used to doing that with guys. And this way, I got everything I want. I'm using Mr. J's fame and popularity to increase my own, and when I get just as famous and popular as him, I'll dump him like a ton of bricks and strike off on my own, and I'll have any man or woman I want whenever I want. I'll be strong and independent without that useless clown, and I won't have to play his abused little victim no more."

She giggled again, pulling out something from the pockets of her shorts. "So…who wants to be Mr. J for our orgy?" she asked, holding up what appeared to be a mask of skin resembling the Joker's face. "It's gotta be the most masochistic of us, since we all hate him, and we can treat the person with his face however bad we want. Hit him, kick him, spit on him, I'll leave it to your imaginations – I know you all got good ones!" she giggled.

"I'll do it, baby," said Deadshot, and Harley placed the skin mask over his face, kissing him passionately.

"Good boy, Floyd," she whispered. "Now take me, all of you, as if Mr. J was watching," she murmured, her eyes flicking to the keyhole of the door and grinning.

They all three approached her as Deadshot lifted her up, slamming her against the wall. "This reminds me of a joke about a clown car…" gasped Harley, shutting her eyes, and that was when the Joker snapped.

"NOOOOOOO!" he roared, kicking open the door and bursting into the room. "No, you'll all pay for this! Nobody makes a fool outta…the…Joker…"

He trailed off, as the scene before him was not the scene he had seen through the keyhole at all. Deadshot was a bloody pulp screaming on the ground as Harley, dressed in her usual black and red catsuit, beat him repeatedly with her hammer. Crane and Ivy were still standing behind Joker in the doorway, staring in astonishment at Harley's violence.

"How dare you?!" she shrieked as she continued to beat Deadshot. "How dare you show up at my place and accuse me of crap I've never done and make my boyfriend insecure in our relationship?! How dare you make him question my character, my character who has never been anything but loving and loyal to him from the first moment I saw him! How dare you make him think I'm some kinda manipulative whore who's only with him for his fame?! How dare you even make him question our relationship?! I've worked so hard for years trying to prove my unconditional love for him and only him, and you think you can just waltz in here and ruin everything by slandering me like that?! Get this, pal! Harley Quinn is a one-man loon! Always has been and always will be! And no stupid man with his stupid theories about me as a character is gonna ruin that! Mr. J knows the truth, and so does everyone out there with half a brain! I ain't no strong, independent woman! I'm the Joker's Harley Quinn! So just get that through your thick skull!"

She hit him again for good measure, and then grabbed him by the hair, holding a knife to his eye. "Now before I make sure you can't be the World's Greatest Assassin no more with no depth perception, tell me! Who sent you, and why?"

"Waller!" gasped Deadshot. "Amanda Waller! She wanted the Joker to kick you out so you'd have nothing left to live for and join the Suicide Squad! I didn't have a choice – she has a bomb in my brain! Please…don't hurt me anymore!"

Harley dropped him to the ground. "Oh, I won't, pal," she hissed. "But my boyfriend just might."

She turned to face Joker, who was staring at her, stunned. "What are you doing here, Mr. J?" she demanded. "Didn't I tell you I could handle this alone?! Didn't you trust me?!"

"I…just…was…Harley?" he repeated, staring around in confusion.

"That's my name," retorted Harley. "You feeling ok, Mr. J?"

"I just saw…something weird," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Something…unreal, but it sure looked real…"

He turned to Crane and Ivy. "You…and Harley…ain't together, are ya?" he asked slowly, pointing at Ivy.

Ivy glared at him. "God, you are such a typical man!" she hissed. "Two attractive women can't be friends without being lesbians, is that it?! Women aren't here to be wish fulfillment to you, J, as much as I know all men get off on that kinda thing! I hate to disappoint you, but we don't exist just to pleasure men! We have our own platonic friendship which doesn't need your approval!"

"Ok, it was just a question!" snapped Joker. "Get off your high-horse, Pammie! You can't blame me for thinking that a gal who hates men as much as you do might swing a different way, especially considering how close you and Harley are!"

"You mean like how close you and Batman are?" demanded Ivy. "Don't judge me by your own disgusting standards, you freak! I can hate men and still appreciate their equipment – that's standard feminist practice!"

"And you…and Harley…didn't have a thing in college?" asked Joker, turning his attention to Crane.

"God, no!" exclaimed Crane. "I was her teacher! It would have been completely unprofessional, and I'm not that type of man, much as the…idea might have…appealed to me. Or not," he added, hastily.

"And I ain't that kinda gal!" snapped Harley, angrily. "You honestly think I couldn't pass college on my own merits, Mr. J?! You actually think I had to sleep with my teachers to get my degree?!"

"No, it was just…a vision thing…" stammered Joker, and then the realization clicked. "Oh, the fear gas!" he exclaimed, pointing at Crane's glove. "That's right – you shot a bunch in my face!"

"I thought it didn't have any effect on you," said Crane, puzzled.

"Well, clearly this batch does," retorted Joker. "Changed the formula, huh?"

"No…" began Crane.

"Yep, changed the formula," said Joker, firmly. "Well, that's a relief! It was a scary couple of minutes…"

"Maybe you just finally have something that you're actually afraid of," commented Crane. "Losing Harley," he said, nodding at her.

"Really?" squeaked Harley, hopefully. "You're afraid of that, Mr. J? I mean, it's silly for you to be afraid of that, as it's never gonna happen, and frankly it's a little insulting, but it means you do care!"

"No," snapped Joker. "No, we don't have any proof of that! I think you just made a funny batch, Crane! That's my theory, and I'm sticking with it! But it was awful, pooh – you were dressed in this really revealing blue and red ensemble…like some sorta…Superhooker."

"Sounds terrifying, puddin'," said Harley, sympathetically. "But don't you worry. It was just a hallucination. I'm the real Harley, and I ain't going nowhere," she said, kissing him.

Joker didn't want to admit to himself how much this actually relieved him, but he pinched Harley's cheek fondly. "Now what are we gonna do with this pathetic excuse for a man, puddin'?" she asked, gesturing down at Deadshot.

Joker grinned cruelly at him. "Oh, I got a few ideas, pooh!" he chuckled, cracking his knuckles.

"We'd better go," said Ivy. "Leave you to it. I'm just glad you're safe, Harley," she said, hugging her.

"Sure you don't wanna join in the fun, Red?" asked Harley. "You and Johnny are welcome."

"No, they're not!" snapped Joker. "They're not welcome to join in any fun, not after that hallucination – it's our private fun, not theirs!"

"O…K," said Ivy, slowly. "I think we both have…things to do anyway."

"What do you think your gas did to him?" muttered Ivy as she and Crane left, closing the door on Joker and Harley and the unfortunate Deadshot.

"God only knows," replied Crane. "He should just be grateful it was all just a hallucination. Can you imagine if it was real? Some sort of Harley-Joker-Deadshot love triangle? Harley dressing in ridiculous clothing and acting completely against character? Sounds like a nightmare."

"Sounds like the stupidest thing I've ever heard," retorted Ivy. "Honestly, who could ever take that seriously?"


	8. Chapter 8

Amanda Waller was alone in her office, the whole building empty except for her. It was after midnight, and most people with families or indeed any kind of life had left long ago. But Amanda Waller didn't have a family, or a life. She had committed herself solely to her career – it was her one source of pride and the entire validation of her existence. And considering that career was basically enslaving people to do dirty and dangerous work for her, some might have judged Amanda Waller as a bit of a psychopathic sadist, who really shouldn't have had any power in any civilized government at all.

But then ever since President Lex Luthor had been elected, the government had really lost all pretense to civility, not that it had ever had much in the first place. And Waller had been in charge of her operations long before Luthor had taken over as president, and she was sure she would still be long after he was out of office. Public officials didn't have any real power – true power belonged to those working behind the scenes, those people who didn't have to court popularity or be elected, those people who clung on to their positions through any means necessary, fair or foul. And in Waller's case, they were always foul.

One might argue that there really wasn't much difference between Waller and the criminal lunatics she claimed to be so much better than, other than that she had the approval of authority, and they did not. Indeed, one might speculate as to the appeal of her hugely unpleasant character at all, and how she had managed to survive in her situation this long given how hated she was by literally all and sunder. One can only assume she had always been incredibly lucky, and the people she had working under and around her had always been pathetic cowards of the highest order. But unfortunately for Waller, her luck was about to run out.

She looked up from her computer as she heard a sound coming from down the corridor, a loud bang and then a muffled groan. Her hand instantly curled around the pistol in her desk drawer as she stood up and walked carefully out of the office.

She flicked on the hall lights, grasping the gun tightly when she saw that the door of one of the supply cupboards was ajar. Slowly, she made her way over to it, raising her gun to eye level and then flicking on the light inside.

"Lawton?" she gasped, stunned at what she saw. Floyd Lawton, codename Deadshot, was hanging by his arms from the ceiling. He was tied and gagged and had clearly been beaten to within an inch of his life – there didn't appear to be a place on his body that wasn't bleeding or broken. And on his forehead, carved into his flesh, was the word _Deadmeat_.

"Thanks for the present – Harley and me always like new people to damage," said a voice behind her. Waller whirled around to see the Joker and Harley Quinn standing there, both heavily armed and beaming from ear to ear. "But nothing lasts forever – after you break the body and spirit, they're no fun anymore, and we gotta find ourselves a new victim," sighed Joker. He grinned at her. "Your turn, sweetheart."

"No…how did…" stammered Waller, "How could…he possibly fail?! A word from him should have aroused uncontrollable suspicion and jealousy…"

"He failed because you underestimated us," murmured Harley. "Like so many people do. You think because we fight and beat each other all the time, that me and Mr. J don't have a very good relationship. But we do. All that fighting only makes us stronger, and we've done so much of it now that we've basically got an unbreakable relationship."

"And don't think I haven't tried to break it!" chuckled Joker. "Can't be rid of the little brat, unfortunately! But then in some ways, she ain't so bad," he said, pinching her cheek. "She's loyal, you gotta give her credit for that. Insanely loyal."

"That's sort of what I pride myself on," agreed Harley. "It's how I see my defining character feature, really – my mad love for Mr. J. Without that, I ain't Harley Quinn. Without that, I might as well be a whole other character, completely unrecognizable to the people who know me and care about me. You take away that, and it would be like taking away Mr. J's smile, or Batsy's mask, or Harvey's coin, or Ivy's plants, or Johnny's fear toxin, or Jervis's Alice, or Freeze's wife, or Bane's venom, or Croc's crocky-ness…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, we get it, Harley," interrupted Joker. "I think we all know what makes up people's characters. And frankly, I'm a little tired of yours, Wally," he said, approaching Waller.

She raised her gun again. "You touch me, and I'll blow your brains out," she growled.

Joker spread his hands wide, grinning. "Try it," he murmured.

Waller's finger tightened on the trigger, when the gun was suddenly knocked from her hand by Harley leaping into the air and kicking out at her violently. She landed in front of Waller and brought her hammer down hard, so that it collided with her skull, making Waller see stars. Through the haze, she heard the Joker's voice.

"See, she'll always be there for me, Wally. Always ready to defend me against my enemies. That's what people like you don't get. No matter how bad I treat her, she loves me. And only me. That's what makes her crazy."

Waller's vision cleared to see Joker standing over her, holding up a crowbar. "Now what makes _me_ crazy, among other things, is my abiding love for slapstick violence," he continued, smiling. "Especially when it's directed at Batsy or his buddies. You ain't one of those, but this will probably still be a lotta fun. And as I said to the Boy Wonder once, this is going to hurt you a lot more than it does me."

"Wait!" gasped Waller, before he brought the crowbar down. "Wait! Wait a minute! You can't hurt me! I work for Lex Luthor, who's your boss in the Injustice League! You hurt me, and he'll give you consequences for those actions!"

Joker burst out laughing. "Consequences?" he repeated. "You think I'm scared of Lexy's little consequences? Anyway, ever since he became ruler of the free world, he's had a lot less time to worry about little old me, and mostly just leaves me to my own devices."

"Call him," growled Waller. "Call him and tell him what you're about to do, and see how he reacts. I acted with his complete authority in everything, and so you have no authority to hurt me."

Joker snorted. "As if I ever needed authority to hurt anyone," he retorted. "But if you insist, let's give him a little call. Harl, watch her," he said, tossing the crowbar at Harley as he pulled out his phone.

"Lexy, old kid!" he exclaimed, as it was answered. "Got a pal of yours here who's dying to talk to you – Harley and me are about to make her beg for death, and she seems to think you can stop us."

Luthor sighed heavily over the phone. "Who is it, and what have they done? I assume there's some reason, and that it's not just one of your random acts of violence."

"No, no, not this time!" chuckled Joker. "She's some sorta minion of yours, Amanda Waller? Runs some organization with a stupid name."

"The Suicide Squad," supplied Luthor.

"Right, Suicide Squad," agreed Joker, nodding. "Stupid name, like I said – if I were assembling a team of expendable people, I'd call 'em the Kamikaze Krew. With a K on crew, for funsies. Or maybe even the Komedy Kamikaze Krew, like some sorta comedy act, and comedy would also be spelled with a K, but then it'd be the KKK, so I guess that wouldn't work as there's nothing funny about them…"

"What's she done this time?" interrupted Luthor.

"She tried to recruit Harley for her Kamikaze Krew," said Joker. "As if she were expendable, like all those other D-list villains she's managed to round up. I mean, I don't think that much of Harley, but even I gotta admit she's a lot more effective and stylish than the likes of Deadshot, or Captain Boomerang. I mean, is he even an authentic captain? And what kinda stupid weapon is a boomerang – you can't kill anyone with those! And if you do, they come right back to you so you'll automatically be implicated! Dumbest choice of murder weapon ever…"

"Joker, shut up," snapped Luthor. "Look, I didn't authorize Harley's recruitment. Waller's basically left to her own devices down there – I have bigger problems than the Suicide Squad to deal with. In fact, let me talk to her."

Joker handed the phone to Waller. "He wants to talk to you," he said.

"Mr. President?" said Waller, taking the phone from him.

"Oh, now it's Mr. President!" said Luthor, laughing. "I guess when you need a favor, people are a lot more respectful of your authority. Last time we talked, you said you didn't appreciate a single-term popularity contest winner poking his nose into the essential business of government, and that in future, you wanted me to mind my own business. I guess that's just until you get threatened by the likes of the Joker, which serves you right, if you ask me."

"Lex, this isn't a time for jokes!" snapped Waller. "He's going to kill me!"

"Yes, I can't say I'm particularly concerned about you getting your just desserts at last, Waller," said Luthor. "There's a sort of poetic justice to it, really, being destroyed by the monsters you tried to control. But just in case you survive, I just thought I'd tell you that I'm disbanding the Suicide Squad by executive order. Joker's right – it really is a fairly stupid idea when you think about it. We have the special forces and the black ops for dangerous missions – why would we want a band of crazy, violent psychopaths working for us? They're only going to damage our reputation as a nation, and that needs as much help as it can get. In future, they should probably just stay in whatever prison or mental institution they've been sent to – why send them out into the world to do more damage with the government's blessing? It's not good publicity if it ever got out, you know, and I'm all about good publicity for my re-election campaign. I think re-imprisoning a whole unit of villains and murderers will do wonders for my popularity. So you're relieved of your job, Amanda. I expect you, or at least your corpse, off government property within twenty-four hours. And if I ever see you again, it will be too soon for my liking, but somehow, knowing the Joker, I don't think I will. Goodbye."

The phone clicked off, and Waller stared at it, horrified. Then she looked up at Joker, who had taken the crowbar back. "Always good to talk to Lexy!" he chuckled. "I love those odd, rare times when we agree on things – gives you a real sense of camaraderie you don't get much from your rival villains! And I just can't ignore orders from the president – I'm a good patriot like that!" he laughed.

"God bless America, puddin'," said Harley, cuddling him. "Now let's get beating."


	9. Chapter 9

"So, how was it for you?" asked Joker.

"Why are you asking me that question?" demanded Batman, irritably, as Joker sat in the passenger seat of the Batmobile a few days later, beaten and bruised.

Joker shrugged. "Just wanna make sure it's still as satisfying for you as usual, and that you're not just going through the motions. Sometimes it's hard to tell in the heat of the moment."

"I don't fight you to get satisfaction out of it!" snapped Batman. "I fight you to protect innocent people!"

"Sure, keep telling yourself that!" chuckled Joker. He glanced at his watch. "Hey, can we have the radio on? I just wanna check something on the news."

Batman glared at him, but flicked on the radio to the voice of President Luthor. "…Miss Waller was a respected and valued member of her department, and a sincere loss to this government, as well as being a true friend and beloved colleague. She will be sorely missed."

The voice changed to the announcer. "President Luthor today speaking on the sudden death of one of the government's senior employees, Miss Amanda Waller. Waller was found in her office alone in the early hours of the morning, a testament to her incredible dedication and commitment to her work – the inquest has ruled that she died from a heart attack."

Joker giggled madly. "Aw, Lexy was always one for a cover-up!" he sighed, wistfully. "Guess that's why he's a good president – they have to cover-up things all the time. Y'know, back before he became ruler of the free world, we used to hide a lotta crimes together, him and me! Good times! Then he'd always tell me not to do it again, I'd say I wouldn't take orders from a guy with no hair, he'd say he wasn't putting his reputation at risk for a freak in a purple suit, but then he'd still keep covering them up for me! That's a real pal, Bats, not that we have anything like what you and me have. I suspect his reasons for helping me out were ultimately selfish, so people wouldn't find out we were working together. Plus he really shouldn't insult my fashion choices – it's so rude. Y'know, not every man can pull off purple…"

"What cover-up?" interrupted Batman. "What are you talking about?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" chuckled Joker. "I'll tell you if you ask nicely."

Batman glared at him. "Ok, I'll tell you anyway," said Joker, shrugging. "Harley and me killed Amanda Waller. Had a great time doing it too. And really, you shouldn't get on your high-horse about it – it's nothing to be upset about. I mean, I know people dying bothers you, but honestly, she deserved it if anyone did. She was in charge of a whole unit of people she'd randomly send to their deaths for dangerous missions, called the Kamikaze Krew, or something like that, anyway. Didn't share your value for human life at all. So killing her is what I call justice, Bats."

"By that logic, killing you would be justice," snapped Batman.

"Yep," agreed Joker, nodding. "Keep waiting for you to wake up to that fact. You must know that's how I want it to end, Batsy. You taking justice into your own hands at last and snapping my neck. But you don't have the guts to do it yet, so frankly, there are gonna be a lot more dead people on your conscience. But like I said, don't put Waller on there. She ain't worth it."

Batman was about to respond, when a loud bang came from outside, and the Batmobile suddenly lurched to a halt, sending both him and Joker flying forward in their seats. "What the hell?" demanded Batman, tapping some screens on the control panel to assess the damage. "The wheels have been punctured," he muttered, seeing the beeping red layout of the car.

He unbuckled his seatbelt. "You stay here," he snapped at Joker, opening the door to the Batmobile and climbing out. The street appeared to be deserted, but as he bent down, he saw that something had been placed on the road, something that appeared to be tacks. With smiley faces on their backs.

Just as he processed this, he felt something sharp embed itself in his neck with a sting. He reached up and pulled out a dart, with a message attached: _Nighty night, Bats. Love, Harley :-)  
_

Instantly, Batman felt his muscles seize up, and he tried to make his way back to the car before he passed out. Just as he pulled himself into the driver's seat, his swirling vision saw the Joker being unbuckled and uncuffed by none other than Harley Quinn.

She helped him to his feet, and was rewarded with a kiss on her cheek that made her squeak. "Thanks, dollface," said Joker. "See, she's always got my back, Bats. Enjoy your nap, and see you later, sucker!"

They raced off together, and the last thing Batman heard was their hysterical giggling, before he passed out.

…

"Thanks for the rescue, toots," said Joker, later that night as they were cuddled in bed together. "I hope I've shown you how much I appreciate it."

"Mmm, you have," murmured Harley, grinning. "Anyway, it was nothing, Mr. J. I get so lonely when you're locked up in Arkham and I'm on my own."

"Just as long as you _are_ on your own, and not lonely enough to find a guy like Deadshot," retorted Joker.

"Why would I ever eat hamburgers when I got my rare meat right here?" demanded Harley. "Cooked to perfection, just the way I like it. Why would I go digging in the trash for something else? I wouldn't want another guy, Mr. J. I'm addicted to you, like a drug. Nobody else would ever satisfy me the way you do. I don't even need to test that theory to know it's true – it's just something I feel, deep down in my soul. We're made for each other. When you've found the one, there's just nobody else in the world you'd even consider. And nobody else could ever be as perfect for me as my Mr. J."

She yawned, snuggling against him. "Anyway, we broke Deadshot. So I'd have to find some other guy entirely."

"I'd kill him," murmured Joker. "You know that."

Harley grinned. "Yeah?" she asked. "You care about me that much?"

"I just don't like other people touching my property," he retorted.

"Well, I don't like being touched by other people either," agreed Harley. Joker put an arm around her, trailing his fingers through her hair and savoring the thought that this was his property. This pretty, adoring little thing was his, and his alone. That made a guy feel pretty special, he wasn't going to lie.

"What did you see in that fear gas vision, exactly?" asked Harley at last.

"Something scary," he said. "You were saying and doing things my Harley Quinn would never say or do. And you didn't much look like yourself either. You were like a whole different person, and I didn't like her at all."

"Don't think I would have liked her at all," agreed Harley. "Tramp. But I'm afraid it's me you're stuck with, Mr. J. Plain old Harley Quinn, same as I've always been."

Joker smiled, and kissed her tenderly. "You know what, Harley?" he asked.

"What?" she said.

"That's the best gag I've heard in a long time," he said. "Go to sleep now, kiddo."

"Ok. Night, puddin'," she whispered, curling up against him and shutting her eyes. "I love you."

Joker watched her drop off to sleep, her sweet, innocent face beaming just to be near him. He drew her closer into his arms, and lay down next to her. "If I ever loved anyone, baby," he whispered, shutting his eyes. "It would have to be my plain old Harley Quinn."

And in her sleep, Harley smiled.

 **The End**


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